


Death of the Author

by purifying_puppet



Category: OFF (Game)
Genre: Angst for days, Bad Batter as a distress response, Canon Divergence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Instability, Will add warnings for each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-04-05 20:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19047376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purifying_puppet/pseuds/purifying_puppet
Summary: Zacharie is fed up with the monotony of the game, and tries to entertain himself by talking with the Batter. Their conversation derails the Batter from his purpose, and he finds difficulty coping with the idea of living with no strings attached.





	1. Derail

**Author's Note:**

> The warnings for this chapter are as follows: Nondescript violence, manipulation, and slight body horror

“What are you thinking?”

The batter remained quiet, not quite paying attention. The reply would be given to him.

“... I’m talking to you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. No one else is here right now.”

He should have guessed it; he hadn’t moved in a while. Shouldn’t he be near a box? Something to lean on should his knees give once control was relinquished. A chuckle broke his concentration, his own blank expression mirrored on the mask in front of him.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’m only curious.” The smile was evident in his voice, reverbing off the material of the mask.

“...” The batter stared at him a moment before answering, “I have a lot of work to do.”

“Is that it?” Zacharie pressed.

The batter’s eyes narrowed. “In what way does it concern you?”

“No way at all. I just figured I would make conversation, as you were staring at me so intently, but I suppose you prefer to let someone else do your talking.”

“I don’t have time for this,” The batter’s legs tightened, about to leave the room, until no urge to step overcame him.

“Then leave, you must be itching to.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? The barriers are down, you can easily go into the next room.”

“I can’t move on my own,” He confessed, gaze shifting to the walls. They were wallpapered, some hideous pattern that was infinitely interesting to an under-stimulated mind such as his own.

“Come again?”

“I can’t leave this spot.”

The shopkeeper tilted his head, considering for a moment. “Would you like to?”

“...” He hadn’t thought about that. Yes, he would prefer not to stand around when he wasn’t being controlled. “What are you suggesting?”

“I could sit you down. Or carry you somewhere else, if you would like. For a price, of course,” he grinned.

His eyes trailed downwards. He was pretty tired. If that was the right word for it. “How much?”

At that Zacharie let out a laugh. “I’m only joking, amigo.” He moved forward, putting his hands on the batter’s shoulders, pressing down on him until he dropped into a sit. “There.”

Everything about this felt strange. Sitting felt great, but the process of being sat down was an odd tactile experience for obvious reasons. Zacharie sat down nearby, crossing his legs, the batter soon following suit.

“This is new. You usually aren’t so receptive.”

“What do you mean, ‘usually’? I’ve only met you twice.”

“Ah, I must be mistaken then.” Zacharie didn’t sound convinced.

The batter wanted to know what he meant. But part of him felt he may not understand even if he was told. He was smart, but not even remotely well versed in the ways of this world. Hell, he could hardly move without someone possessing him. It didn’t make for good exploring.

The pensivity is his expression was not lost on the shopkeeper. “Surely you have questions, it must be so cluttered in a head like yours.”

“What type of head is that?” He raised an eyebrow, growing irritable with the other’s vague statements.

“One that is allowed to forget. Tell me, what do you remember?”

“...”

A sigh escaped the shopkeeper, reaching up to straighten his mask. Meanwhile, the batter felt his face grow hot, unsure of why he felt so embarrassed. He couldn’t think of what to say. No words came. They should come, but he couldn’t remember anything of value. Just his quest to purify the zones.

“Stop staring at me like that. It’s creepy.”

“I’m not, actually.”

“Are those not your eyes?”

“Do you think this mask is my actual face?”

That was a fair question, and just made the batter more flustered, his add-ons beginning to twitch impatiently behind him, as though tuned in to his tension.

“No. I just feel like I’m being watched too closely.”

“You are! By the specters, the guardians, the player… and me! All eyes are on you, my friend.”

“Stop.”

Zacharie was taken aback by the bluntness of the request… demand? Perhaps plea. “Ah… I’m afraid I can’t do that. Sorry.”

The batter stared at the wall again, looking utterly lost and uncomfortable, allowing Zacharie to stew in regret. Derailing a protagonist was a bad idea. Especially one so obsessed with their goal.

“Fine.” With what took far more effort than it should have for anyone, even someone so perpetually numb, he managed to shift his legs, though his arms wouldn’t cooperate. Would he eventually seize control if he kept trying? He was nothing else if not stubborn.

“What are you doing?” Zacharie’s brows raised behind the mask, and it was his turn to be perplexed. This wasn’t normal. This little exercise was meant to stop the batter’s pursuit, not encourage him.

“I’m trying to move.”

“Well, stop trying. Would your player not be upset with you if you were not where they left you?”

“Their goal is the same as mine. If they mind, it is out of concern rather than anger.” Clenching his hands, he managed to stretch his arms, elbows and wrists cracking. It was honestly difficult not to be fascinated with this new sensation, especially after having been bored for so long before today. Struggling to his feet, he managed to stand, though he was far from sure-footed.

“You have a staggering amount of confidence for some who was born yesterday.” Zacharie chided, fairly certain the other wouldn’t make it far on his own. None of the other batters had. Then again, none of the others had ever had a moment to sit and think.

“If I was not confident in what must be done, I wouldn’t do it.” His words would have seemed a lot more poignant had he not let out a panicked yelp as he lost his balance, falling flat on his face.

Zacharie didn’t have time to react to the falling, though the unfortunate nature of the incident yanked a laugh out of him. “Sorry, my friend. That was rude of me. Are you hurt?”

“No.” The batter grunted, not bothering to admit that that did, indeed, hurt. He rolled onto his back, staring blearily at the ceiling, his add-ons twitching in his view and circling him as though they were trying to help in some way. He was quite fond of them, waving a hand dismissively in hopes of putting them at ease. Rolling to his hands and knees, he managed to sit upright again, slowly but surely getting a hang of the… controls. That was one way to think about it.

“You really can’t sit still, can you?” Zacharie acknowledged, watching as the other fidgeted.

“Now that I’m able to move, I feel the need to.” The batter was soon back on his feet, stumbling again before Alpha pressed against his back, steadying him. He mumbled a ‘thank you’ before walking in a circle, testing his legs with a small smile of triumph. They were more than functional, it was just figuring out how to use them that was the issue.

Zacharie rose to his feet as well, watching the display. This shouldn’t be happening. The implications of having unleashed something very dangerous should have bothered him more, but for now, he was just happy to see something new. “Are you having fun?”

“...” He stared at Zacharie, looking almost startled. “Uh… I guess so…?” He didn’t sound certain. The concept of fun was far too subjective to answer accurately. This was nice though. Too nice.

“I’m sorry, Batter. That wasn’t fair of me. I know you’re not made for those kinds of things,” Zacharie droned, not thinking about what he’d just said until the other’s expression shifted. Even then, it was too late to backpedal.

“Explain.” His voice was quiet, his head tipped down to hide his face. Fear crept into his chest, clawing around in his belly until he found his hands shaking.

“Well.” Was it too late to just avoid the other until another run started? He didn’t feel like dealing with another brain-scratched protagonist, though he did feel a bit guilty. “What can I say? Some people aren’t made to feel. You weren’t made for anything but to take orders and serve as a lens.”

“...” Everything felt bad. He knew all that, but hearing it out loud felt deeply uncomfortable.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” This was all so pointless. The batter would purify the zones and end the world again, or the judge would kill him. Two options. Whatever he did wouldn’t change that. He could say whatever he wanted. “Or did it get through your thick skull that you’re just a tool for a player who may never come back?”

“Stop it.” The batter’s voice broke, and Zacharie was glad he couldn’t see his face.

“Why should I stop? I’m right. Isn’t that what you do when you think you’re right? Keep going and pressing until there’s no one left to prove it to? Even if it means destroying everything and everyone?” His voice was almost cheerful.

It made the batter sick to his stomach, sinking to his knees while his add-ons panicked around him. He didn’t have a choice. He had to purify these zones. People were suffering. He was suffering. It had to stop.

“Why the long face, amigo? Now’s not the time to feel guilty. That was a loooooong time ago. Unless you want to feel guilty. It might make me feel a little better.” Maybe he was being a bit too mean, but it wasn’t like it mattered.

The batter sniffled, tears burning in his eyes, his whole body feeling like it was full of static. “Stop…”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do. But, I can tell you what to do. Get up, batter.”

Against his own will, he rose to his feet, drenched in sweat as he tried to keep his resolve. He couldn’t let this get to him; he had to keep moving. He should be used to being controlled, but having someone else do it freaked him out. “Stop doing this. It’s not going to fix anything.”

“You’re not fixing anything either. Stay.” Zacharie turned his back, beginning to walk away.

The batter tried to follow, but his legs refused. “You bastard… let me move!”

“Why should I? So you can go can go progress your narrative? Now be quiet.”

The batter tried to shout at him, but his mouth wouldn’t open, feeling like his chest was going to explode. As much as Zacharie was messing with his head, he at least needed something to listen to, something to think about aside from how awful everything was and the fact that there was no good answer. Why did he even bother? The quiet was deafening, the sound of his panting clouding his hearing.

“What’s wrong now? Did you grow a conscious or something?” Zacharie heard the panting, but didn’t think much of it. Glancing back over his shoulder, it occurred to him that the batter looked… wrong. “... Batter?”

The batter’s head snapped back, his eyes blown wide and completely white as black fluid poured from his mouth. “Zacharie…”

The shopkeeper felt his blood turn to ice, slowly starting to back away. “Easy there, my friend… Don’t… don’t do that.”

“Why not? Don’t you want me to be a monster?” It was nice to pretend he had any control of this, but once the words left him, he lost it. Hands sharpening to claws, he dropped the bat and lunged for Zacharie, crocodile-like jaws stretched.

Zacharie dashed past him to grab his bat, only to have an add-on knock his hand away from it. “Back off, I need that!” He hissed, only to receive a smack to the face from the ring, nearly knocking his mask off, his hand flying to keep it on. It wasn’t an attack; he’d probably be actually injured if the add-on had been trying to hurt him rather than protect its companion. With an irritated groan, he abandoned the bat and ran out the door, slamming it and pressing his back to it.

This was all his fault. And it kind of sucked. He wasn’t used to responsibility; his job wasn’t to make any decisions, and bad ones usually didn’t affect him. The clamor from the room behind him made him flinch; it was only a matter of time before the batter escaped and wreaked havoc on this zone. Maybe all of them if he was still able to enter the nothingness. He’d derailed the game, and part of him wondered if it was even still playable. Or even re-startable.

That hadn’t occurred to him before. That he might be able to mess things up so badly that he couldn’t just wait for a restart. And if the player really had left… he swallowed, listening to the sound of things breaking on the other side of the door, inhuman howling and screaming, claws eviscerating wallpaper and drywall. Guilt felt awful. He really hoped this would resolve itself.

Things were quiet for a brief moment, the only sounds he could pick out being heavy breathing and pacing, only to leap away from the door as he heard the other charging towards it. Black claws stabbed through the solid wooden panel, busting open a hole for the specter to crawl through, sharp splinters of wood digging into its flesh, though it didn’t seem to realize it. It’s gaze turned to Zacharie, blank with a lack of recognition.

“Wh-What do you want?” Zacharie sputtered out, fully ready to run, but the moment he began to speak, it cringed and fled in the opposite direction, two of the add-ons in tow. Hesitantly, he took a few steps forward, peering into the ravaged room through the hole in the door. The bat remained on the floor, but it had not been abandoned by one of the add-ons, which seemed to be attempting to push it along.

“It’s not him anymore, you know.” Zacharie explained, and the add-on abandoned its fruitless effort, floating over to him. It stopped directly in front of him, and he wasn’t sure how in hell a circle looked judgemental, but it most certainly did.

He sighed, having a hard time dealing with what he’d just done. If his thinking was correct, he’d not only ruined this world, but he’d done it out of boredom. His frustration with life’s repeated course of events had gotten the better of him, and he’d taken it out on someone who hadn’t technically done anything malicious. And now said person was running around, absolutely feral because of him.

Much to his chagrin, he should probably do something. Be it killing the remaining specter, or… some other option that didn’t make him feel absolutely awful. He bent down to pick up the bat, only to get slapped against once again, frustration mounting. “Stop, I’m not going to use it. I’m just carrying it for him.” Despite its inaccuracy, the statement seemed to calm the add-on.

“Can you help me find him?” He couldn’t believe he was talking to what was basically a very angry hula hoop, but it seemed to understand, heading out of the room and down the hall where the batter had fled through, blood drips staining the pale, drab carpet of the office building. Something told him he wouldn’t have very long to find the other before blood loss did his job for him.

_________

“Um… are you okay?”

The words hit the batter’s ears and rattled around his brain, indescribable and bizarre. Someone was talking to him, but he couldn’t tell who, feeling like his body was on fire and his brain was boiling. What did they want? What did anyone want?

“Are you… a specter?” The man studied the batter for a moment, trying to remember what the director said about them. If you don’t harm them, they won’t harm you? That sounded about right. “Oh, sorry. That might have been a rude question.” The other certainly looked strange, but everyone looked a little strange to someone as normal as himself.

What the hell was this person talking about? The batter couldn’t understand him. But he wasn’t afraid of the man either. He tried to speak, but all that came out of him was a weak groan, clawed hands clapping over his face as he stumbled backwards. A firm grip on his arm startled him, immediately hissing in warning, though the grip didn’t leave him.

“D-do you need to sit down? You’re hurt…”

He really didn’t want to hurt this person. He was being so gentle with him, it was hard not to feel slightly put at ease. He managed a breath that wasn’t quite so ragged, touching his hand to an ache in his side before registering that his hand felt wet.

“Can’t you talk?” The man wondered if maybe he couldn’t. Either way, whether this was a specter or not, it definitely wasn’t doing great. “I can walk you to the bench if you like. Benches are good for when you don’t know what direction you want to go.” He offered a gentle smile, eyes flicking up to meet another person who was running towards them.

At the subtle change in focus, the batter’s head snapped to look behind him, the sight of Zacharie rushing him with the bat drew a snarl out of him, looking around rapidly before rushing into another building, desperate to get away. Meanwhile, Zacharie was tripped by the add-on that he was following, tumbling, only to rise to his feet again and stop to talk to the stranger, figuring it would be easier to catch up with him once he was cornered inside. The add-on was no longer around, having ditched him to catch up with its cohorts.

“It didn’t hurt you, did it?” Zacharie asked between panting, brushing the plastic off himself. He really wasn’t used to running. His gimmick was more of standing in one place.

“Oh no, he didn’t. I think he might be hurt though, he was acting very strange. Are you his friend?” The man asked, still seeming slightly startled by the events, but overall cool with it.

“Something like that…” Zacharie trudged on, heading for the building. Why hadn’t it attacked that man? To be fair, the common folk here were so inoffensive that it was probably like engaging with a cardboard cutout.

“Uh… bye.”

That was awfully rude of him, walking away without saying goodbye to the other. Then again, these people were a dime a dozen, and it wasn’t like there was anything he could do anything about it…

Wow. He kicked himself internally. That attitude is what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. And with the fact that the batter hadn’t mauled that man to death, maybe he could stand to be a little bit less offensive. He tucked the bat into his backpack with a sigh. “Goodbye,” he mumbled, trying to think of how to handle something that was so dangerous and so afraid of him. He had some candy that Sugar had given him, maybe it’d take a peace offering?

What was he thinking? This was a specter. They couldn’t just coexist peacefully; they terrified the citizens too much, and turned them into specters themselves.

He’d turned the batter into a specter. There was no way to tiptoe around it in his head, and he hated that he felt bad about it for all the wrong reasons. He’d been callous enough to absolutely destroy another person’s mind, and all he could think about was how sorry he felt for himself for possibly ruining this realm and spelling death for himself. Or worse, an eternity of emptiness.

Entering the building, he found the trail of blood easier to follow. The way it was moving was probably only worsening the wounds. After traveling through the atrium and a hallway, the trail lead to a room, the door busted wide open, prompting Zacharie to creep inside.

The specter was pressed into the corner of the room, breathing raggedly, hollow eyes scrutinizing the shopkeeper as he slowly approached.

“Hey…” Zacharie took his mask off, trying to remain calm. He didn’t want to get too close; one snap of those jaws would likely snatch his face off. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The specter has little choice but to calm down; he was too tired to keep trying to run. He pressed his back tighter into the corner, snarling in warning at the stranger. He knew the voice; a change of face couldn’t fool him. Though the action of removing the mask was confusing enough to him to catch him off guard.

“I’m sorry this happened. It wasn’t what I meant.”

The specter stared at him, unmoving aside from the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. The add-ons hovered between them, sharing the apprehension.

“Heh… um… I really should have planned something before coming in to face you, huh?”

“...”

Though the specter didn’t seem to have much thought in its head, Zacharie felt like the idiot in the room. Was he really expecting to get away with this without apologizing? He was sorry, but he was only sorry things had gone this way. However,  
the smell of blood and the desperation in the other’s bloodied form was starting to gnaw at him.

“Look, you don’t understand. None of this matters. Really. If you kill me, it’ll probably make up for this a bit, wouldn’t it?”

“...” The specter sank to sit on the ground, propped up on the wall as he trembled. God, he felt so fucking sick. How long was this guy going to try to talk to him? He didn’t like him. He’d been stupid enough to trust him enough to listen to him, and his words had crept in his ears, the doubts devouring him like parasites.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know it’s nothing personal.” Zacharie knew he should either shut up or apologize, but it was hard not to be this way. After all, he’d always been this way. “I just wanted to try something else. I know this is your whole life and all, but to me, it’s just a game.” Saying it out loud made him feel like an absolute monster. He couldn’t even look at the specter without feeling a desperate need to look away from the mess he’d made.

“This was never a game to you though.” Zacharie hated this feeling, but it was hard to stop himself, feeling choked up. “We were all real people, and you took it on yourself to fix all of this in the only way you could think of. This was your story batter… and I ruined it. I’m so sorry…” he kept his gaze glued on the wall, fighting back tears. Apologizing might make him feel better, but it did nothing to remedy the other’s state. He sniffled, wiping his face on his sweater sleeve before offering a hand to the specter.

“Come on. I’m going to patch you up, and if you kill me in the process, that’s fine.” Much to his surprise, the add-ons didn’t strike his hand away.

Outstretching a shaking, bloodied, broken claw, the specter reached for him, taking his hand, eyes darting in search of any signs of aggression.

“It’s okay. I’m going to fix this.” Zacharie had never been so uncertain of something in his life. He pulled the specter to his feet by his wrist, standing for a brief moment before it dropped to the ground like a sack of flour, losing his grip on its wrist in surprise. “Ah- I’m sorry- shit-“ He crouched to the ground, flipping the body over onto its back, a slight gasp escaping him.

It was the batter. And though he looked like hell, he was still breathing, albeit shallowly. Zacharie lifted him carefully, disturbed by the gashes in his skin and his broken fingers from busting through the door. He’d done this. Now he’d fix it.


	2. Indecision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter include injury mention, mental instability, and general bad feelings

The batter drew in a sharp breath, a stabbing sensation shooting through his chest as he scrambled for purchase. He dug his hands into the fabric around him; sheets? Biting his tongue, trying not to react to the deep, searing pain of his own fingers. He sat up despite his better judgement and body’s pleas, vision lagging as he scrutinized his hand.  

 

It was wrapped tightly, his pointer and middle finger seeming to bear the most wrapping. Twitching the digits, it soon occurred to him that he could move them, just not very well and without regretting it. 

 

Rolling onto his side, he glared at the wall, feeling like if he were to open his mouth, every bit of his being would come pouring out. Though the thought made very little sense to his hazy mind, he kept his jaw clenched, just in case.

 

Where was he?

 

Shit.  _ Shit.  _

 

What was happening? 

 

This wasn’t something that should be happening.

 

He had to go. He had to get out of here. His breathing started to quicken, reaching around for his bat, his supplies,  _ anything _ that could help him make sense of this. He could feel his purpose fading, as though he was sinking into an ocean of plastic, gripping at his throat as he tried to force air into his lungs. 

 

Rapid footsteps were soon followed by the sound of a door being slammed open, and though his sight had left him, he felt hands grip his shoulders.  

 

“Batter, breathe! You’re okay!”

 

The familiar voice coaxed him out of his head, even though it was the last person he wanted to see right now. He drew in a few gasps, sinking against the source of the voice, his head swimming. 

 

“Ah- easy… Don’t, um…” Zacharie shifted, not wanting to make much contact with someone who could so easily eviscerate him if he were to change back. The batter seemed tired though, and he doubted he’d be able to do much if he did. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

 

“What did you do to me?” The batter didn’t mean it to be accusatory, but words seeped out of him, clinging to Zacharie despite his aversion.

 

The shopkeeper remained quiet, the two holding each other and making each other’s skin crawl for a few moments before Zacharie spoke up.

 

“I don’t know. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that though. It was a dick move.”

 

“A what?”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

The batter sighed, pulling away to sit up, but he only flopped back on the bed, his eyes squeezed closed. He wasn’t sure what to do with the apology.  He wasn’t mad at him, but he wasn’t sure if he forgave him yet. He definitely didn’t trust him, that much was for sure. But, with his body as irritatingly useless as it was right now, he didn’t have many other options. “...”

 

“Are you okay? Aside from the obvious… I tried to patch you up as well as I could, but I’m not exactly a doctor.” 

 

“I’m fine. I just don’t feel well.”

 

“Then you’re not fine…” 

 

The batter opened his eyes again, leering at Zacharie.  “What is your game, exactly? What do you want from me?”

 

“Fix what I broke, and put you back where I found you. I’m don’t ‘want’ anything from you, I’m not some kind of monster.”

 

“Oh, but I am.” 

 

“Batter…”

 

“What, you think that I’m not? You saw what happened.” He rolled over to face the wall, aches radiating all over his body.  “I lost control. What little I had, I lost, and I could have killed someone…”

 

“Is that really any different than the killing you’re going to do?” Zacharie didn’t have time to consider his own words until the batter’s foot shot out into his gut, knocking him off the bed.  

 

“Oof… okay, I deserved that…” He dusted himself off, standing nearby, hesitant to sit on the bed again, for obvious reasons. “Look, I’m going to level with you. I have no idea what to do with you, and I’m not any good at decision making. For now, you’re more than welcome to stay and let your wounds heal…” his brows furrowed behind the mask, staring at the batter as he curled up tightly, his hands over his ears and his nails digging into his hair as he shivered. 

 

“Batter, please, you’re hurting yourself…”

 

“Why can I still hear you?” He sounded absolutely miserable.

 

“It’s dialogue. It doesn’t work that way, unfortunately.” 

 

“Why do you know all of these things? Why can you do this?  _ Why?! _ ” The puppet demanded through gritted teeth.

 

“Please, try to stay calm.”

 

“Or what, you’ll make me?!” 

 

“Calm down…”

 

“No! And you can’t make me!” 

 

“I  _ can _ , but I don’t want to, so don’t make me.”

 

The batter stayed quiet for a few moments, his breathing heavy as he struggled to get up, black, gooey tears and sweat all over his face as he sniffled. He pressed until a hand on his shoulder held him down, forcing him to sit back down on the bed. 

 

“Please, just listen to me.”

 

“I tried that, and look what it did to me…” 

 

The batter had a point.  Zacharie considered patting his back, but thought better of it. “Do you mind if I touch you?”

 

“Can’t make me any worse…”

 

“Touchè.”

 

The shopkeeper smoothed down his back, rubbing circles between his shoulders. He could feel his heart pounding through his back, frowning.  “That feel okay? I’m not hurting you, right?”

 

“Yeah… feels fine…” his head hung, slowly starting to relax. It felt really nice. Closing his eyes, he folded over as his body gave in. “...thank you…”

 

“Don’t mention it. It’s the least I can do…” 

 

It was a few minutes before the batter seemed to calm down completely, sniffling and wiping his face on his sleeve with a sigh.  Zacharie continued to rub gently, relieved that he seemed to be catching his breath.

 

Lashing out against Zacharie wouldn’t serve him well.  The implications of that were at least a bit sinister, but for now, he had to play by his rules if he didn’t want to be hurt. Sure, he was an asshole, but he really hadn’t done anything to hurt him directly. The batter closed his eyes, unsure of why he found himself crying again. He didn’t know why any of this was happening, and he wanted it to stop, but if it stopped, would he just go back to being numb? He didn’t know if he wanted to lose his agency or not, but the possibility terrified him.

 

Biting down on his tongue, he squeezed his eyes closed tightly in hopes of hiding the fear in his face. Though it probably just made him look worse. With no hat to hide his face and no bat with which to act, he may as well be one of the victims of this place; disgustingly vulnerable, and painfully human. 

 

Zacharie’s gut twisted in pity at the sight of the other’s crumbling expression, rubbing more firmly as his shoulders began to bounce with sobs.  “Cheer up, Batter! All is not lost. You can still make things right, somehow. Now that you can make your own decisions, maybe you can think up another way to save this realm?” The words were irritatingly hopeful on his tongue, but the batter really, really needed it right now. 

 

The batter stilled, but it seemed to be more from exhaustion than calm. He rubbed his face, his sleeves a teary, sticky, bloody mess. Maybe Zacharie was right.  Maybe he could think of something on his own. Or maybe he’d fail again. But he was making the choice this time. 

 

Zacharie grimaced at the mess, offering the batter a handkerchief to wipe himself off with.  He’d probably need his clothes washed, but at least his tears were running clear again, the last of the the blackness from his transformation seeming to drain from him. He looked awfully pale in contrast to the black bile, but he’d probably look better once it was washed off.

 

He almost started crying all over again as he accepted the handkerchief, burying his face in it. “I’m sorry… this is so gross…” 

 

The shopkeeper couldn’t help but chuckle, the tension of the room seeming to lift. “It’s alright, really. I can wash it.” He looked down, trying to crush the slight feeling of fondness for the other’s bluntness. He was a bit like Sugar in that way.  He tried to ignore the similarity. He didn’t need to get involved with yet another person. “You should probably get washed up. I can help you to the washroom if you like.”

 

The batter wasn’t very familiar with washing himself.  He usually didn’t need it, and it was unusual for him to even break a sweat while fighting. But the past day or so had left him feeling considerably grimier than he found acceptable.  “Thank you… Where are we? The walls aren’t a color I’m used to.” 

 

“A keen observation. We’re in an off-section of zone 0, where I live and store most of my wares.” He snaked an arm around the batter’s chest, lifting him off the bed. His legs were wobbly despite the fact he seemed to really be trying, beginning to pant softly with effort before he was even down the hall. He sat the other down on the edge of the tub, wetting a washcloth and cleaning up his face.

 

The rough texture of the towel felt odd on his skin, but he wasn’t complaining.  The sound of the sink running dulled his thoughts, wondering if Zacharie would be mad at him if he fell back asleep. Every part of him felt so damn heavy, his wounds stinging whenever he made minor adjustments to stay sitting up, dizziness only adding to the difficulty of remaining awake. “Zacharie… I…” 

 

Zacharie had finished wiping the other’s face, noting with some concern how sheet-pale he’d turned. Well, he’d been an idiot. The batter had bled a lot and been asleep for the past while, he was probably dehydrated as hell and out of blood sugar.  He scooped the batter up, carrying him out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen. “We’re going to hit pause on that. You need some juice.”

 

“Couldn’t you have just brought it to the bathroom…?” The batter’s head rested against the other’s shoulder, not sure why he seemed keen on carrying him. He sort of liked the feeling of being carried, especially with how warm Zacharie was, but he wasn’t about to be outward about it.

 

“Ah…” He hadn’t thought of that.  “Well, you’re not too difficult to carry. It was a long haul getting you back here from Zone 3, not to mention you should probably eat something as well.  Once you’re well enough to walk again, you’ll probably be able to shower and what-not.” 

 

The batter nodded slightly, satisfied with the answer.  This place was very strange. As was this situation. Everything, by all definitions, was wrong.  Yet he didn’t really care that much. Sure, his drive to complete his quest still gnawed at him, but he could very easily see how Zacharie’s isolation from the horrors this world had to offer may lead him to take a backseat. Despite this, he soon found himself growing antsy. “... You haven’t seen my add-ons, have you?” 

 

“The damn things have been doing nothing but pestering me, and they didn’t even help me carry you. I may or may not have locked them out, as they’ve been getting very annoying,” Zacharie admitted, unsure of why the batter was asking.  He didn’t think he was fighting, did he? Then again, he seemed very attached to those things. 

 

“Oh. So they didn’t leave?” The tiniest hint of a smile crept onto his face, playing through his voice. “I thought for sure after I…”

 

“No. You haven’t been abandoned.” 

 

The batter hadn’t been expecting that. It felt warm in his chest, soothing his nerves a bit. “I haven’t…” He echoed in disbelief. 

 

Zacharie frowned, glancing down at the form in his arms.  He wondered how he was taking no longer having a puppeteer. That last comment really painted the scene for him though. The game hadn’t been restarted yet, so maybe the player got bored. Or stuck on a puzzle. Or, they just couldn’t progress without control of the batter.  For whatever reason, they had abandoned him. “Hey… Do you know how long you were standing there before I talked to you?”

 

“...” The batter was silent for a long while before replying.  “I don’t know. It was a very long time.”

 

“Longer than usual?”

 

He nodded against the shopkeeper’s shoulder, eyes trailing along the walls as he soaked in the unfamiliar color. He knew what Zacharie was so gently tiptoeing around so not to upset him. But it was so unlike him to try to spare his feelings… his vision blurred with tears. 

 

“I… understand this must be difficult for you.  I can’t imagine what you must be feeling.”

 

“Why are you being so nice to me…?”

 

“Eh? Oh, uh…” Good question. He refused to admit he may be going a bit soft after having exhausted his frustrations. “You’re having a hard time.  You’re supposed to be kind to people when they’re unwell.” That was a stupid answer.

 

It occurred to the batter he was very, very different from other people. It seemed like everyone else but him had received a book on how to exist, studied it well, and left him in the dust.  It was simply his nature; he adopted whoever controlled him, and let them use him for whatever they wanted. That way he could feel useful. But without that, what was he? Zacharie said he was unwell. Maybe that all he was for now. 

 

Zacharie set him down on a chair in the kitchen, leaving a hand on him until he was sure the other was steady. He didn’t like how withdrawn he’d become after that exchange, but he knew talking more about it was probably the worst thing for him. Then again, some people felt better when they got to talk things out.  The batter could always tell him to stop if it was stressing him out too much. This time, he’d listen.

 

The batter stared at the table in front of him hollowly, the ringing in his ears growing deafening, feeling like the room was filling with water. Everything sounded so strange. He knew Zacharie was saying something to him, but he couldn’t decipher it for the life of him. Before he knew it, something was being pressed to his lips, feeling something cold running down his throat. It took a few moments for him to come to his senses, his vision blurry. “... huh…?”

 

“I said, you need to drink. You’re really dehydrated.” Zacharie’s hand was behind the batter’s head, holding it tilted back, his other hand pouring orange juice from a cup into him.  He was relieved that had worked; it very easily could have gone down the wrong pipe. He recalled hearing somewhere that plain water wasn’t good if you were severely dehydrated, though he couldn’t remember where. He set the cup down, concerned about the other’s state. People died from this kind of stuff.  He just wished he knew what to do about it, or that anyone he could easily get to did. 

 

The batter rested his head on the back of his chair, tilted back as his body tried to figure out what to do with the foreign substance. It felt cold, but he could feel his senses slowly returning. “This feels weird…” he lifted his head, rubbing his eyes. 

 

“Well, it’s going to. You’re not used to this kind of thing.” At least not his his knowledge. “You leaked a lot of fluid, so you need a lot of fluid back.”

 

That made sense, but not much else did. He gripped the table shakily with his unbandaged hand, at least having the presence of mind to do that.  

 

This place was very odd to him, based on his very limited experience. It wasn’t a purified zone, and he hadn’t seen any specters. Perhaps the Judge actually did a decent job at being a guardian, so corrupt souls could not find their way here.  That was a thought. What was the purpose of guardians? All they did was oppress the citizens and do nothing about the phantoms that terrified them. Who had even put them in charge?

 

Zacharie could practically hear the gears turning in the batter’s head, watching has he slowly regained his composure. He wanted to ask what he was thinking about, but for now, he wanted him to focus on drinking. He set the glass down on the table, sitting in the other chair as he considered his options. Most topics he could have brought up likely would have just stressed the batter out more, so he tried to think of something light. 

 

“It’s crazy to think you’ve never drank anything before. I mean, not that there’s much around to drink, with all the blood, and plastic and stuff.” 

 

The batter looked over at him in blatant confusion. Small talk. Right. That was another thing he should probably be able to do, but no words came to mind aside from a small nod. He hadn’t ever thought to drink anything; he’d never been thirsty before. He carefully took a sip, nearly spilling the cup and the contents of his mouth on himself, but managed to get it down. 

 

“... Did you need help with that?” Zacharie offered. The protagonist’s awkwardness in such a simple action was slightly funny to him, but a condescending chuckle was likely something that would bring about very negative consequences. 

 

“No, I think I’ve got it…” he took a few more small sips, finally getting control of the action, feeling the dizziness and the ringing in his ears start to ease. 

 

“Maybe a straw would have been easier. Sorry about that.” 

 

“Don’t apologize. It’s no big deal.” Admittedly, he did get a small amount of satisfaction in learning the new action. He finished the juice, rising to his feet carefully, testing his legs. Still a little wobbly, but he could use them. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt such an urge to stand. Restlessness was starting to needle it way into him, eyes darting around the room. Something felt wrong. 

 

“What is it?” Zacharie watched as the batter stood, wondering why the hell he would hop to his feet so soon after having nearly blacked out. He wasn’t exactly smart, in that way. “You shouldn’t be up yet, give yourself a few minutes, or you’ll fall.” 

 

The batter cocked his head, listening for something, Zacharie’s words not really registering in his mind. Something was coming. 

 

He felt a slight gasp leave himself, specters manifesting around them, his heart starting to beat faster. He didn’t have his bat. No one had commanded him to fight. His pupils constricted to pinpricks, his breathing heavy.

 

“Well, that’s inconvenient. I suppose Pablo must be out right now, he’s not guarding the zone…” they were relatively small specters, so they should be easy to dispel. “So, what do you say? Shall we get this purification in progress?” He pulled a sword from the holster on his belt, waiting on a response from the batter. 

 

“Ah… ah…” 

 

The small whines caught him off guard, looking back to find the batter staring into space, his body completely rigid. “What’s wrong? Are you palsied?” He poked the batter’s cheek, finger sinking in, his jaw clenched. No response. “Hey… what’s going on?” He set the sword down on the table and put his hands on either side of the other’s face, rubbing his cheekbones with his thumbs. “You’re okay. Just breathe. Take a deep breath, Batter.” 

 

He breathed in shallowly, eyes struggling to focus on the mask in front of him. The sensation of his cheeks being rubbed was slowly bringing him back to coherency, staring into the eyeholes of Zacharie’s mask as he tried to tether himself to reality. 

 

“That’s it, j-“ Zacharie winced as he was struck in the back, the specters not caring to wait until both parties were paying attention. It hurt a bit, but he had to focus on the batter right now, make sure he didn’t end up burnt again. “C-come on. Let me get you out of here…” he picked him up quickly, dashing past the specters and knowing that they were in hot pursuit.  Lugging this guy around was getting kind of tiring. At this rate, he’d be back in shape after a week or so…But for now, god was he exhausted. Where was he even running to? 

 

Zacharie struggled with the doorknob to the entryway, unintentionally squishing the batter into the door, prompting him to start struggling to get down. This really wasn’t easy. How did the puppeteer move him around so easily? 

 

The batter tried to stay quiet, but the pressure was starting to grow unbearable, bucking in panic and prompting himself to get dropped on his head, his leg kicking out and breaking the doorknob. 

 

“Ah! Sorry!” Zacharie bent down to recover him, hoping he hadn’t hurt him any worse. He couldn’t even find it funny; the batter didn’t deserve it anymore. He’d already suffered more than enough for what he’d done so far.

 

Through the dizziness, the batter caught sight of his bat leaned against the wall in the entrance, his brain lighting up in recognition. He grabbed it, rushing forward to confront them.

 

“Batter! You’re going to hurt yourself!” He rushes towards the fray as well, but his statement seemed to fall on deaf ears. The batter was swinging despite his injuries, already being circled by the swarm. He needed to help him… But he’d left his sword in the other room. And the door was open.  Nothing was really… keeping him here. “On second thought… you may want to keep swinging.” In a split second decision, he decided to step for the exit. The batter could probably handle himself. This was what he was made for after all.

 

The batter’s CP had already run dry, not having had any time to find a box between his encounter with Zacharie and now. Panting heavily, he hunkered down and swung as hard as he could at one of the larger ones, dispersing it with a satisfying crack from the far end of the bat… and a sickening, painful crack from his hand. He cried out in alarm at the feeling, trying to pick the bat up again, but his hand wouldn’t move, his bloodied fingers only twitching in response. He looked back for Zacharie, hoping the other was faring alright… only to see him moving for the door. 

 

They locked eyes for a moment, but the batter didn’t have time to feel sorry for himself. He retrieved his bat in his functional hand, slamming it into a nearby specter. 

 

Zacharie… really didn’t like this feeling. But, it felt better than getting killed. Maybe if the batter died, the game would stay this way, peaceful and unprogessable. He’d let this work itself out. Stepping out the door, he was immediately assailed by more specters, scrambling back into the hall. “Um- Batter, I need a hand wi-“ 

 

He was cut off as the batter shoved him aside, blocking one of the specter’s strikes with his bat braced against his palms, growling as his arms nearly buckled under the impact. Things were looking grim. There were at least 20 specters circling them, and the batter was running out of steam. Everything was beginning to feel suffocating, but all he could think to do was keep fighting, blood roaring in his ears and body numb with adrenaline as he pressed on.

 

All at once, the whole crowd of specters seemed to take a hit. That was odd. What did that? The batter’s eyes lit up as the add-ons surged in, finally managing to bust through a few walls to get to him. They made quick work of the crowd, the batter continuing to try to help, but mostly just ended up getting himself hurt. Once the specters were dispersed, the batter sunk to the ground, his head buzzing as he tried to think of anything but the agony rippling through his hand.

 

Zacharie hesitantly made his way over, offering a hand, but the batter just stared at him, his eyes cold. “I thought you were on your way out.” 

 

“So, you saw that? I was just, going to try to find a weapon.” Zacharie lied through his teeth, and his mask. 

 

The batter didn't reply, forcing himself back to his feet. God, did he feel awful. He had half a mind to punch him for that piece of shit move, but it wouldn’t have helped anything. Especially not his hand. He wiped the corner of his mouth, a bit of black smearing across his cheek as he struggled to catch his breath. 

 

“You... shouldn’t be standing…” Zacharie’s hands hovered a few inches from him in case he fell, but the batter drew away. 

 

“You shouldn’t be TALKING!” The batter screamed at him, far past the end of his rope. He pointed the bat at the shopkeeper, his arm trembling weakly despite his conviction. “Are you trying to kill me, or help me?!” 

 

“Please, don’t get so worked up.”

 

“Answer me!”

 

“It’s not as simple as that.”

 

The batter felt like his chest was going to explode, his teeth clenched so tightly that he felt like they were going to crack. In a blind fury, he elbowed Zacharie out of the way and ran like hell, having no idea of where he was going.

 

The shopkeeper had fully accepted that he was about to be mauled, but was surprised to find the batter had rushed past him, out into the zone. As much as he wanted to be mad that the batter had stormed off in such a way, he was completely within his rights. He should probably wait until the batter calmed down again… then again, he’d probably ripped his stitches while fighting. He needed to go find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally remembered to update this... wack. Well, things get a bit worse in the next chapter before getting better. Thanks for reading so far!


	3. Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sugar fishes a dying Batter out of the plastic, but her only healing item contains a lot of sugar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter include: Attempted suicide, drug use, and existential dread (but with a happy end)

He needed to get away. Somewhere he could be alone. Could be safe from the doubts that Zacharie infected him with. It was better to be alone and let the deafening silence have its way with him.

 

All he really understood was he needed to run. Before he did something he regretted. It was getting harder and harder to think clearly, his vision a blurry smear as he blindly charged on. 

 

A few specters appeared around him. Just some small ones, probably a strike or two with the bat would purify them, but he couldn’t seem to grip that he was supposed to be fighting them. They weren’t attacking him. And soon they left, the add-ons twitched in confusion at the turn of events. He wiped frustratedly at the fluid leaking from his mouth, the bandages stained black, the inky substance mingling with the blood of his shattered hand as he struggled back to his feet, not even remembering having fallen.

 

Water. 

 

He needed water.

 

Now.

 

Scrambling to the edge of the zone’s flooring, the specter dunked his head into the lukewarm depths, jaws parting as he desperately dragged in, not caring if it was filling his lungs or his stomach. His jaws stretched into the surface, soon finding himself wincing as he retched up the plastic, gagging on the black bile slipping from between his teeth. He fell on his side, head hanging over the edge of the land and his nose dipping into the water ever so slightly. Everything was spinning like a top.

 

Footsteps were coming.

 

He had to get away. 

 

Against any kind of good judgement, he crawled into the water, preferring to drown over being hurt any further. He was so far from his purpose now. He was useless to the puppeteer as well. He shouldn’t have tried to do things on his own. He deserved to die. Thoughts spiraling, he sunk like a rock, feeling the tide drag at his limbs.  It felt like the nothingness. He welcomed it.

 

“ _ No _ …” Zacharie could see his body topple into the water, sprinting in his direction, but by the time he reached the land’s edge, the splash had settled, and the opaque plastic depths had swallowed the batter. He paced at the water’s edge, unable to process what had just happened.  “No, no, no, you idiot… Why did you do that? How  _ could  _ you do that? Did you even stop to think you might get better? You thought you’d just take the coward’s way out, and everything would be okay? God damn it…” He choked, his panicked pacing at the edge, feeling like he couldn’t breathe. He should be okay with this. Batters died all the time. Normally because the puppeteers pushed them past their breaking points. But he’d never done that before. He’d never  _ caused  _ it. He took off his mask, wiping the tears of shock away, trying to focus on breathing.  No need to join the batter in his suffocation. 

 

Zacharie wished he could blame this on poor coding.  Batters were usually professionals at staying alive, and would continue on blindly until they succeeded, or they finally ran out of blood. But he’d been the one to break this one.  Hopefully the game would restart soon. He’d be sure not to make this same mistake again. But for now, he couldn’t stand to stay here at the edge, waiting for a resurfacing that wouldn’t come.  If drowning didn’t get him first, the plastic would soon poison him. He shook the thought, shivering as he headed back to his home. He needed a break from this world. It was a great place to make money, but god, was it fucking depressing.

 

~

 

Alpha noted that it could not lift the batter’s form from the plastic, even with the assistance from its fellow add-ons. Was it the heaviness? It had lifted him while more overencumbered. This should not be a problem.  

 

Omega recognized that there was little that could be done in terms of breaking the surface.  Though the plastic did not affect them, there was only so much time until the batter kicked it. 

 

Epsilon abandoned the pursuit of trying to lift the batter, peeking above the surface to get its bearings. There was nothing. Disappointed, it sunk back down to hook around the batter’s ankles, trying to at least keep him from the bottom.

 

~

 

Sugar sat on her swan, legs crossed, a grin across her face as she cast her fishing rod into the plastic. She caught all kinds of things, even things from other zones. It made for quite a nice collection. Also, it was fun to just be out on the surf. Humming to herself, she waited for the lure to bob, before starting to reel in. 

 

Oh, this was heavy. Maybe another corpse? Certainly possible. She drew the form in closer with the lure, dragging it out of the water. 

 

“Oh my! It seems I caught a ducky!” She chimed gleefully, poking his face. No reply. She pokes his face again, but he didn’t move. Probably because he was full of plastic. She tipped him on his side, the fluid spilling from his body, patting his back roughly until he started gagging, forcing the fluid from his lungs. 

 

“You’re not dead! That’s new,” she noted aloud, shaking his shoulder again, prompting him to grumble in annoyance and push her hand away. 

 

“Put me back. I was so close.” Though the batter’s form had returned to normal, his mind still burned, wishing it would either stop or scorch his brain completely clean.

 

“No dice! I caught you, and you’re mine now.” She was only joking, but she certainly wasn’t about to let him go back in there, especially when he seemed so intent on dying. “Try to be happy about it! You’re lucky, someone mean could have fished you out of there! :-)” 

 

“How did you do that with your mouth…?” He rolled onto his back, looking up at her in bleary confusion.

 

“Don’t worry about it too much. ;-)”

 

Maybe he could just roll back into the plastic. He went to roll over, but the pain from his stomach wrenched a groan from him. 

 

“What’s wrong, ducky? Is it your heart or your body?” She straddled him, looking down in concern. The add-ons took offense, shuddering as they prepared themselves to attack if she hurt him. 

 

That… was an odd question. However, he felt bad all over, so any answer would be accurate. Some things were worse than others. “My stomach… and my hand…” 

 

“Ow, ow, ow… That looks  _ bad _ .” She pressed down on his belly near the wound, making him wince. The stitches had popped. His white shirt was more pink and red than white anymore. “That must hurt like hell.” She inspected his hand, which was broken in a few places, a shard of his finger pushing through the bloodied skin. “Jeez, I’m getting secondhand pain from this… hand… hehe.” 

 

The batter closed his eyes again, dissociating. Everything hurt too much. And he was probably about to be killed. He wasn’t expecting fingers on his face, working his jaws open. “Open up, ducky!” What the hell was she on about? His eyes flicked open in confusion, watching her unwrap some candy and shove it haphazardly into his mouth. 

 

He resisted at first, the sweetness making his teeth ache, panicked that it was kind of poison. He had already chosen to die, why did it have to be by her rules?

 

Sugar had no idea why he was resisting so much. Candy tasted good, and it should help with his wounds. Did he really want to die that badly? Well, he could decide if he wanted to or not once he was healthy again. For now, she was in charge. She kept her hand over his mouth, massaging his throat to make him swallow. 

 

He wasn’t certain when he stopped struggling, but his mind felt dulled, a soft sigh escaping him. His head still hurt, but everything felt… okay. 

 

“There you go~” Sugar cooed, releasing her grip on him to check his wounds again. They’d closed up, though they were probably still very sore. “Feeling better?” 

 

“Yeah… thank you.” He blinked, his vision blurry, trying to think. Why had she helped him? He hoped it wasn’t some kind of deception. “Who are you?”

 

“I’m an optional boss fight!” She exclaimed proudly, and he was left to wonder why she seemed to yell everything. It was honestly grating. “I’m Sugar, this is my swan, and these are my dummies!” The swan honked, and she jammed her hands into her pockets, strings tied to her fingers, connected to the small add-ons that had come out. “They’re cute, aren’t they~?”

 

“Quite.” The batter sat up, crossing his legs, momentarily distracted from his own despair. Maybe it was the fact he wasn’t pouring blood, or maybe it was the sugar taking effect. Everything felt hazy. He found it interesting that she had add-ons as well, tilting his head as he watched her. “What do you mean, you’re a boss fight? Why aren’t you trying to kill me?”

 

“Oh, silly thing. That wouldn’t be fair, would it? Not as you are now. And sorry for being so forceful with the candy, you weren't in any state for me to wait."

 

He didn’t like that. “Why would you help me just to kill me...?”

 

“I’m not sure. Why would you ask?”

 

“...” What kind of a question was that? “Why not?”

 

“I mean, you seemed pretty keen on dying just a few minutes ago.  Why is now any different? :-)”

 

That was a fair question.  He didn’t have an answer to that either.

 

“I’m only curious. I may have fixed your body, but I think your mind is still a few feet below the plastic, huh?”

 

He nodded, finally offering a response. That was accurate. He didn’t feel fixed. Just numbed. Maybe that was what he needed right now, though.

 

“Why did you help me?”

 

“Why not? :-P”

 

This wasn’t getting anywhere.  He huffed to himself, relaxing a bit as they bobbed over the waves, the swan’s feathers soft beneath his hands.  He inspected his left, and though it was bruised to all hell, the bones were in place. His hand soon became a puzzle to him, the bones and sinews of it interlocking in a way that was functional, but apparently not strong enough to allow him to carry out his task.  Why not?  

 

“Candy works wonders, but don’t eat too much! Your brain gets all melty. However, it's all I have at the moment,” She watched him as he shifted, gently pressing his shoulder until his face was against the feathers, patting him gently as he sighed. “It’ll wear off in a little while… don’t try to take a chomp out of me then, or I may just stop being an optional fight~”

 

 “I won’t…” he mumbled, eyelids fluttering as the sugar beat through his veins. He felt weird. But a good weird, his heart pattering softly and steadily and his whole body tingling. It was no wonder the Elsen of Zone 3 had fallen victim to its appeals. He could hardly remember why he was upset, giggling as the the dummies investigated his face, their little noses tickling against his skin. He buried his face in the swan’s feathers, dozing.

 

Sugar admired her handiwork with a satisfied grin. From a self-destructive disaster to a contented puddle in only a few minutes? She worked faster than Zacharie did, that was for sure.  It was odd to her though, that a batter would have such need for a remedy like this. Something really must have gone wrong for him to be in such disrepair. 

 

The batter caught a glimpse of the sun setting before his eyes slipped closed, the sunshine warm on his eyelids. He wanted to sleep, and so sleep he did. His mind didn’t ask twice, plunging him into the dark. 

 

Sugar hummed to herself, casting her line into the plastic again, waiting patiently for a moment before chucking her fishing rod into the water. She’d fish it out later. Sighing, she rested her back against the neck of her swan, studying the puddle of protagonist drooling in front of her. 

 

She didn’t have much experience with batters. Not live ones, anyways. And when she did, they tended to try to be killing her. Not that they often succeeded, and when they did, she’d just be back again when a new game started, despite her nature of not existing within the events of the game. 

 

She was a bug. But that was alright. It made her more human.

 

Turning her back to the batter, she stroked the swan’s head, cooing sweetly at her feathery compatriot. “Maybe we should head back. It’ll be dark soon.” The swan craned her head back to rub her head against Sugar, adjusting her course to head back to land.

  
  


It was well into the evening by the time they arrived back on the shore, and Sugar stretched her legs, dipping her feet into the plastic. It had grown cool with the evening. Part of her didn’t want to jump off; things were comfortable here. But the batter needed more help than to just be chock full of drugs and trying to sleep off his injuries. 

 

Very slowly and carefully, she slipped her hands under him, lifting him off of her swan’s back. He was considerably lighter than he looked despite being deadweight, which was concerning. Thick grass squished beneath her steps, the zone teeming with crickets, all voicing their opinions of the previous day. Shifting him so that he was flung over her shoulder, she opened the door and headed inside. 

 

She probably shouldn’t tell Zacharie about her new friend just yet. He’d been very adamant of the fact that batters were dangerous, and she shouldn’t talk to them.  Which was fair, as it lead into a fight. But still, things seemed to be going well so far. Maybe soon enough, they wouldn’t have to worry about scripts or their place in the narrative. 

 

She went into her room, kicking the door closed behind her and dropping him unceremoniously onto her bed. It took her a few seconds to recognize that was something she probably shouldn’t have done, but the batter simply grumbled, shifting a bit and going back to sleep. 

 

“Sorry…” she whispered, patting his head before looking around her disaster zone of a room. Maybe she should tidy up… nah. It wasn’t dirty. Just a mess. She took the clean, unfolded clothes off her bed and a few of the mass of stuffed animals in order to make room. 

 

On the thought of clothes, the batter was looking like quite a mess. Maybe he’d want to shower. The smell of blood and plastic all over him was a bit gross… Not to mention the burnt goo on his face and stuck in his hair. 

 

“Ducky,” she whispered, poking his nose. His face twitched slightly, sneezing and startling himself awake. 

 

“Ah- Hello…” his voice was rough, pulling across his vocal chords with a lack of precision. “What… wh…” he couldn’t even think of a question to ask. There were too many. 

 

“You’re in an annex of Zone 0. This is my room. You’re safe here.” 

 

That answer was satisfactory.  “Okay…” 

 

“You’re pretty messy right now. Would you like to get cleaned up?” She didn’t want to seem rude, but wet clothes were awful. 

 

“Oh. Sure.” He hadn’t gotten a chance to do so before when he was with Zacharie.  Zacharie… he tried not to think about him. It made his chest hurt. 

 

She saw his expression drop, wondering what was wrong. Maybe he was just sobering up. “Come on then.”

 

She helped him to the bathroom, turning the shower on so it would be warmed up by the time he got in. To her bewilderment, he stepped in immediately, shoes and all. 

 

“Mon ami… what are you  _ doing?” _

 

“I’m… cleaning myself off?” He wasn’t sure what she meant. He’d washed himself once, but that was in the fountains in the amusement park of zone 2. It was chlorinated as all hell, but at least it was clean. 

 

She covered her mouth, trying desperately not to laugh at him, though a few giggles slipped through. “Ah… normal people usually take their clothes off first, and wait until the water is warm.”

 

“Oh.” He was on occasion made aware of just how far behind he was on what was normal. In his defense, he was new to existing, but it still made him feel very silly. “Then, let me, um…” The humor of the situation reached him a bit late, but her giggling seemed to roll around his head, pulling quiet, strained laughter out of him. What was even happening right now? He wasn’t sure, but it was hilarious. 

 

“Okay, so,” she began, picking up a few of the bottles on the edge of tub. “This one is for getting your hair clean, and this one is for making your hair softer. This one’s a body wash. This one is a different body wash that smells different. There’s a few bars of soap too, they all smell different, so you can just pick one, :-)” she explained to the confused and sopping wet stranger in front of her, smiling as he lost his shit over nothing in particular. She was glad he was enjoying himself. 

 

That wasn’t a lot to remember, but he did his best to internalize it, wiping the tears from his eyes a few times before realizing the shower kept pouring more water in his eyes. “Makes sense… thank you.” 

 

“No worries! This stuff is confusing. I had a hard time learning it myself. OH! Also, you’re going to want to keep your eyes closed while you wash your hair. It stings like  _ crazy _ if you don’t :-(“

 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” He moved to the side slightly so his head wasn’t under the shower head anymore, unsure of how much longer this conversation would continue. It was pretty difficult to hear with water running over his head. It was pretty difficult to hear in general; being warm and soaking wet while having little idea where he was was very disorienting, his view of her warping and shifting as he tried to keep focus.

 

“Also! Hm… I forgot. I’m sure it will come back to me.” She pulled a towel from off the rack, leaving it on the counter. “I’ll leave now so you can get undressed. If you need anything or get confused, just shout, okay?”

 

“Okay. Thank you.” The batter dipped his head in appreciation as she stepped out, pulling the shower curtain closed so he wasn’t making the floor too wet. 

 

While shelling off his clothes, he was left to consider the fact that he’d never  _ not  _ been wearing them. He’d considered taking off his overshirt in the heat of the sugar factory, but for some reason, he’d stopped himself. It didn’t feel quite right. However, not wearing clothes in the shower felt a  _ lot  _ better. He carefully hung them over the rail the shower curtain was on, nearly falling as he pulled off his socks and shoes.

 

It was nice to just stand there and be warm, let the water wick away all the blood and sweat. He sunk to sit on the floor of the tub, his mind clouded as he enjoyed the feel of the water tracing his face, the backs of his eyelids swirling through colorful patterns. This all felt so weird. 

 

Meanwhile, back in her room, Sugar was given a moment to contemplate her new companion. Although he seemed like an accident waiting to happen, he was even more of a mess than she was.  It was refreshing, as well as amusing. The add-ons hovered uselessly outside the bathroom door, seeming to have little to do without his input. 

 

Her own add-ons chattered as they buried themselves in her pockets once again, but she scooped them out, untying them. “Go play! It’s not bedtime!” The little candies hesitantly moved to the corner of the room opposite to the other add-ons, clearly not wanting to interact with them. To be fair, they were a bit intimidating, their presence seeming to emit a low hum whenever they were looked at. Sugar wondered how the batter could stand that noise all the time, but maybe he just didn’t notice it. 

 

It took him quite a while to gain the motivation to rise to his feet again, his balance awkward and his mind dull as he tipped his head forward to watch his blood tint the shower water and slide down the drain.  His head swam with dizziness as he reached for the shampoo bottle, roughly rubbing into his hair and squeezing his eyes closed, the smell of the soap intoxicating and cloying. His hair was slightly tangled, having to yank out the knots in disgust at his own form. He’d really been walking around like that? To be fair, he’d never interacted with his own hair before this, but it still annoyed him. He heard motion in the bathroom, a shadow moving behind the guise of the semi-transparent curtain. His eyes widened, something deep in him stirring in terror. How long had that been there? Who was that? Where was he? 

 

“Hey, I’m leaving clothes here for you! You okay in there?”

 

“I’m fine. Thank you!” He chimed in return, unsure of where that small burst of enthusiasm had come from. Though her voice had startled him slightly, he was still glad to hear it. For a few moments prior, he’d been lost in his own head, and it was honestly a kindness to be wrenched out of it. 

 

Though it was really fun to just stand here and let his brain go wild, he should really spend some time with Sugar. Something about her made him happy in a weird way, in the way she so easily took charge of him, but her instructions didn’t cause him harm. He giggled to himself, flapping his hands, absolutely giddy at the fact that someone he’d met wasn’t trying to hurt him in any way. 

 

He could probably cut this whole thing down to just washing his hair and the rest of him. He was more for efficiency than excess, even if it did sound nice. He huffed slightly, starting to feel lightheaded from all of the steam and heat, nearly overwhelmed by the urge to lay down on the floor of the shower and let the world dissolve him like a pill on its tongue. He rubbed his face, trying to bring himself back to his senses, but his ears were starting to ring, rinsing himself off as quickly as possible before shutting the water and stumbling out over the tub, each action highly deliberate as he tried to keep his focus. 

 

It felt so much better on the other side of the curtain, the cool air soothing his feverish body. Maybe the shower was just too hot. Maybe he was just tired. Always just something he could dismiss and keep moving. But now… why did he have to keep moving? What was the goal? 

 

**Purify the zones.**

 

The batter flinched, putting a hand to the side of his head. Purpose had struck him like a hot knitting needle through the skull, yet he still felt a distinctive lack of it. He toweled off, wrapping the towel around himself as he stood vacantly. His thoughts felt blurry, his vision tunneling towards the mirror, which he approached, staring at his reflection. 

 

Was that what he looked like? He looked so… indescribable. Uncanny. It felt wrong. He’d seen his reflections before, in water, in shiny windows, but he didn’t look like that… 

 

**You cannot avoid me.**

 

The batter shivered as the words came again, searing pain through his mind, though his reflection seemed not to care. “I… am not trying to avoid anything. I’m just confused. Things are different.” He sounded a bit uncertain about the last statement, but he said it nonetheless. Or had he? He put his hand to his mouth, but his lips wouldn’t move.

 

**You are avoiding your purpose. You cannot escape it.**

 

At that, his reflection warped and twisted, laughing at his disgust. He backed up until his shoulders hit the wall, the whole room spinning as he clapped his hands over his ears. “Leave me alone, specter. I will not fall for your tricks,” he stated matter-of-factly. There was no way this was actually happening. He was probably just hallucinating, or having some kind of trick played on him by a malignant spirit. 

 

**I am no specter, you fool. I am you.**

 

“No. I don’t buy it.” He managed a breath, able to be brave in the face of some kind of deceit. “It is cruel of you to come for me in such a vulnerable state. But even now, I am no fool.”

 

It laughed even louder at that, condescending tone creeping through his ears.

 

**You are a fool because you think this may end well. You are befriending the people of the very place you mean to extinguish. Will you be brave enough to pull the switch, knowing you will kill them as well?**

 

The batter went quiet, what little color he’d gained from the warmth draining from his face. “I… will figure something out.”

 

**Well, tick-tock. This world isn’t getting any purer while you laze around. The longer you wait, the more people will suffer.**

 

That… was unfortunately correct. He needed to get going. He passed by the mirror, putting on the sweater and sweatpants Sugar had provided, looking back to the mirror. It was him again. And these clothes were a bit big on him. 

 

Depositing the towel in a bin that he assumes was for that purpose, he stepped out of the bathroom, prompting Sugar to look up from her phone. She smiled for a moment, but the expression quickly faded as she got a better look at him. 

 

“You should come lay down. You don’t look so good.” 

 

“...” he swallowed. He was so tired. “Thank you for everything, Sugar. But I have to go soon, if not right now.”

 

“Why’s that? The rest of the world will still be there tomorrow.” It seemed like absolute nonsense that he’d have something more important to do than sleep off whatever was wrong with him, but she figured he had reasons. Whether they were good ones or not remained to be seen. 

 

“I have to continue purifying. Zone 3 is not completed yet.”

 

“But, you’re too weak to face any specters right now. So you should rest.”

 

“I am not weak. My resolve remains solid.” 

 

“I see.” Sugar got up from the bed, approaching the batter before picking him up and folding him, dropping him on the floor. 

 

“Wh-What the hell?!” He spat, scrambling to get back up, but she crouched and shoved him to the ground with ease despite his struggling. 

 

“Look, if I can keep you down with one hand while balancing on the balls of my feet, that means you are not able to fight,” she explained, watching with a frown as he twisted under her weight despite how little pressure she was applying. She lifted her hand, continuing to watch him struggle. 

 

“Damn it… why can’t you just let me go?!” He hissed, frustration mounting. He couldn’t be allowed to avoid his purpose, but he couldn’t fulfill it either? What the hell was he supposed to do? 

 

“Ducky… I’m not pressing on you anymore.” 

 

The batter’s expression twisted in anger and disbelief before he realized she was telling the truth. He couldn’t get up. He was stuck on his back, and he couldn’t get enough momentum to get back up. His head fell back on the ground with a soft thud, eyes squeezed shut as he panted softly. She was most definitely right. He wasn’t strong enough to fight right now. 

 

“I’m sorry this is happening to you. You must be in a lot of pain.” Sugar couldn’t help but recall her own struggles with purpose. She wasn’t supposed to exist in general. She couldn’t be what was expected of her. And the pain from that could sometimes be unbearable. 

 

His eyes welled at her statement, his chest tightening. God damn it, why was he crying so much? He hated feeling so vulnerable and annoying, aching horribly as the world spun.

 

With a grimace, she scooped him up off the floor, carrying him to her bed and resting him in the pile of stuffed animals. “I know you feel like everything’s falling apart, but you have to keep talking. Your doubts will rip their way out through your chest if you don’t let them out yourself.”

 

“I don’t know what to do…” he whimpered, rolling to his side as burying his face in something plush as he sniffled. Weirdly, it helped. He wasn’t used to soft things. 

 

“No one does, really! What do you want to do?” 

 

“... I want to fix this world.” 

 

“But do you want it to end?”

 

“...” he froze up, lifting his head again, tears rolling down his face. He didn’t want everyone to  _ die. _ He just wanted this to stop. 

 

“So, you’re uncertain?” She crosses her legs, giving him a bit of space to breathe. She tried to keep the questions simple, seeing that the more difficult ones seemed to overwhelm him.

 

“Yes…” 

 

“Well, that’s good then! Because if you’re not certain, there must be things holding you back, right?”

 

“... mhm.” He wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but at this point, any advice was welcome to try it’s hand at easing his despair. He didn’t like hurting people. And the path he was on lead to everyone dying. So naturally, it was something he questioned constantly, but still came to the same conclusion. He twitched slightly, squeezing his eyes closed. 

 

“What stops you from wanting to kill everybody?” She inquired. This was honestly a curious topic to her in particular. They had both managed to overcome their coding to lay here peacefully, as opposed to immediately fighting. This batter worried her though. He was too much like one she’d fought in the past, who’d been screaming in agony for much of the fight, the damage his bad form had inflicted on him far worse than her blows. It had been a mercy killing. And she didn’t want to do that to this one too.

 

“I don’t want good people to be in pain… They don’t deserve to suffer…” 

 

“Yet here you are, beating yourself into a pulp. You may not be…  _ Good _ , in a traditional sense, but you don’t deserve the pain you feel.”

 

“That’s where you’re wrong. The pain I feel is punishment for breaking away from my purpose. I should never have done that, I should never have  _ listened _ to anyone, and now I’m doing it again…” he tried so hard not to listen. Everything hurt. Though Zacharie has been the one to derail him, he was the one who listened. He could have just ignored him. He’d be so much happier being a numb, pliant puppet for the player, able to exist merely as a vessel and not having to think about any of this. 

 

“Why should you be punished for that?”

 

“...” he wasn’t sure. Disobedience, he supposed. He was supposed to exist by the rules here, and when he didn’t, he was always in tremendous pain. 

 

“You shouldn’t be punished. You’re trying to save everyone the only way you know how. Sure, it’s a terrible idea that needs work, but it comes from a place of caring, correct?”

 

He nodded weakly. 

 

“Then you’re trying to be good. And you can’t beat yourself up for missing the mark sometimes.” 

 

He wished he could explain to her that it was more complicated than that, the urges and sensations that ran through his body fed entirely off of that purpose. His entire existence was contingent on the presence of awful things. What would he do if not what he was made for? He gagged, which caught him by surprise, putting a hand to his mouth in confusion as nausea tossed around his empty guts. Shivering, he buried his face in the plush again, trying to hide his discomfort. He wanted to hear what she had to say, but every slight sound felt grating. Everything felt wrong. 

 

His behavior was worrisome, that much was for sure. She was about to dismiss the conversation and let him sleep when he gagged, the usual pallor of his face only worsening. “... Say something if you’re okay.” 

 

He wasn’t okay. His breathing quickened, starting to break out into a cold sweat as faintness gripped him. He tried to sit up, but gravity lurched him back onto the bed, the world a smear of blurry light and color. 

 

That definitely wasn’t good. She scrambled across her room, grabbing a can of soda she had lying around before cracking it open and moving him to prop him against the wall. “Just stay with me. Drink, okay?” She tried to put the can in his hand, but it wouldn’t grip, wrapping her own hands around his as she poured the soda into him. 

 

He passed out soon after, but at least his breathing had steadied, his face not quite as pale. He’d run himself into the ground. Hard. Sugar sighed anxiously, setting the empty can down as she layed him on his side. He should be okay like this for a little while. She needed to go get some food. 

 

The kitchen was, thankfully, quiet. Though she doubted Zacharie or Pablo would interrogate her over snagging snacks, she still was in a bit of a rush. She microwaved some ramen and grabbed a few granola bars and juice boxes, as well as a protein shake that had long since been abandoned at the back of the cabinet, but had yet to expire. Arms full of goodies, she returned to her room, finding the batter exactly where she’d left him, eerily still aside from the small rise and fall of his chest. 

 

She patted his face lightly, trying to rouse him. She didn’t want to  _ hurt  _ him, but it was very important he wake up and eat something. He stirred slightly, but there was no reply aside from a soft groan as he pushed his face further into a stuffed animal. “Wake up, Ducky! You gotta eat something! :-)” she shouted, causing him to flinch, but ultimately settle back down, sighing softly. 

 

Blinking back awake, he stretched, feeling oddly stiff despite the brevity of his… nap, if it could be called that. He was feeling a bit better now though. His stomach gurgled, the carbonation from the soda feeling weird. “Wha’s wrong…?” He slurred, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. 

 

“Eat! Your body depends on it!” She shoved the ramen at him, which he accepted hesitantly.

 

His stomach wasn’t exactly great, and most of the food he’d had, mainly flesh, made his stomach feel a bit bad. But whatever was in that styrofoam cup smelled heavenly… 

 

He dunked his fingers into the cup, Sugar’s eyebrows raising behind her bangs, a quiet laugh escaping her. “Not quite…” she extended him a fork. “You use this to scoop the noodles out.” He really didn’t seem capable of using chopsticks, being that a fork seemed to perplex him as it was. 

 

He dug the fork into the noodles before shoving some into his mouth. It wasn’t any kind of meat like he was used to, but it did taste good, and felt good going down. 

 

Sugar watched, smiling proudly as he got a hang of it. “Can’t believe you’ve never eaten normal food before. Not that it was available to you.” 

 

‘Normal food’ was a weird sort of statement to him. What was normal, anyways? “Where do you get this from?” 

 

“My friend gets it for me. He travels to other places and comes back with it. I could go too, but the gateway creeps me out a lot… :-(“ she admitted, looking to the side and rubbing her arm nervously. “The food here is edible, but it either sucks or makes you crazy. You probably felt that firsthand a little while ago.”

 

He had. Strongly. There was still some remnant of the sugar in him, but it just left him more tired than anything. And feeling something strange. Like something was missing, but he couldn’t place his finger on it. “I can see how stuff with sugar can wear on you. I had a bit of an awkward conversation with my reflection…” he stated apprehensively. Was it a side effect? He really hoped it was…

 

Sugar laughed loudly, patting the batter’s shoulder. “Yeaaah, it does that. Try not to think about it too much. It’s just part of your subconscious talking way too loudly. It’s not real.”

 

The batter heaved a sigh of relief, tears wetting his cheeks. Though the words still needled him, knowing they hadn’t come from the puppeteer in some way soothed him considerably. “Not real… okay.” He nodded.

 

“Besides all of the brain-scrambling, how are you feeling? Still dizzy?” She prodded his side gently, noting the slight loss of balance. 

 

“I feel better. A lot better.”

 

“But still not good yet.” She didn’t need to ask. 

 

“... yeah. Well… I don’t know. I feel strange. But I don’t feel bad. And you have no idea how incredible that is after the day I’ve had…” he put a hand to his cheek, brows furrowing. “I don’t know why I feel this way though. I’m thinking. But it’s not funneling back to the same place anymore. I’m thinking about your swan. And the add-on’s. And the Elsen I talked to earlier today…” he looked absolutely bewildered before shoving more of the noodles down, as though in a panic.

 

 He was  _ starving.  _

 

What the hell was going on? 

 

Sugar watched him with wide eyes as his brain unfolded in front of her. “Not just stuck on one thing anymore, huh? How’s it feel?”

 

His heart was pounding, hands shaking as he gripped the cup, tears pouring down his face as he tried to ride out the intense wave of emotion that crashed into him. “... I’m alive…” he breathed, gripping one of the stuffed animals beneath him. He felt it. He could move it.  _ He  _ could do that. Not the puppeteer controlling him, but  _ he  _ was moving. And he bled. And ate. And cried. He wasn’t a vessel. He actually  _ was something.  _ “Oh my god…” he whimpered, the trembling spreading to the rest of his body. 

 

Sugar gently removed the styrofoam cup from his hands, pulling him into a hug. She remembered how intense it had felt when Zacharie has finally explained to her that she didn’t have to just exist to fight the batter. She could live. And hang out. And pet her swan, and exist in other places than Zone 0. It was a violent, terrifying, yet liberating feeling. “Yup! You’re alive, buddy!”  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to update weekly, I have a decent backlog for the time being :)


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